Long Way Down
by Khori
Summary: After the battle on the Burning Plains, there is still much left undone. Eragon and Saphira have many loose ends to tie up and promises to keep. With all the duties they have to uphold and appearances to keep, will Alagaësia ever be saved?
1. Stretched Thin

I do not own anything related to the Inheritance Trilogy by Christopher Paolini. I am just using his characters, plot, setting and all that for my amusement :) This is a short chapter, I know. When things get moving hopefully they will be longer. I hope you enjoy!

-Khori

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Chapter One: Stretched Thin 

_Eragon,_ said Saphira, breaking into the conversation he was currently having with Roran in his tent, _someone is here to see you. _

Eragon frowned tiredly, swiveling his head in the direction of the tent flap. He relaxed when he saw that it was only Orik, looking just as rumpled as when Eragon last saw him, which seemed a lot longer ago than it really was. _You could have told me who it was,_ he said to Saphira, who rumbled with subdued laughter.

_Earlier you proved that you don't need to see someone to know who they are. But if you insist, I will tell you next time. _

"Orik," said Eragon, rising from where he sat with Roran on the edge of the bed. Orik wavered where he stood, a flask of mead clutched loosely in his hand. Eragon steadied his friend by placing one hand easily on the dwarf's short shoulder. "Can I help you with anything?"

"One favor at a time," Roran spoke up uneasily. "You just promised to help me."

Saphira stuck her head in the tent, her sinewy neck snaking around Eragon and Orik as she peered at Roran. _We have many duties that we are bound to. But you are Eragon's family, and you are bound by blood. Do not be concerned, we will rescue Katrina. _

"As soon as Eragon's strings are done being pulled by his different puppet masters," muttered Roran, but he shook his head in apology and turned away before Saphira could begin to glower. Eragon ignored his cousin, his attention on Orik.

"Hrothgar is ready for the journey," Orik choked. "When the sun rises, you and Saphira will come with us to Farthen Dûr. We have many other bodies to carry besides his own." He hiccuped mournfully, and Eragon nodded, kneeling to be face to face with Orik.

"I swore to never leave any dwarf wrongly buried," said Eragon. "And I will keep that oath."

Orik raised his free hand and clasped it around the forearm that Eragon had rested on his shoulder, looking gratefully into his eyes. "Aye. Thank you, Eragon. I know you will avenge Hrothgar, and do everything right by him."

Eragon smiled and shook Orik's shoulder gently. "Yes, my friend. Now go and sleep. Your head will hurt in the morning."

Orik scoffed on his way out of the tent, passing by Saphira with a sloppy wave. "Hurt? I can hurt no more than I already do."

Silence descended upon them and Roran stood. "I know we were in the middle of planning, but I see that you will be waylaid, if you must travel all the way to– Where is Farthen Dûr, anyway?" he frowned.

"It is in the Beors," answered Eragon. Roran frowned and looked away.

"I will stay with the rest of Carvahall tonight. I will go with you and Saphira to bury Hrothgar, and from there we will head directly to Dras-Leona." He nodded to Eragon and Saphira as he too left. Sighing, Eragon returned to his bed and sat down heavily, his head in his hands. He heard the rustling of the tent flap and knew that Saphira was pushing her way farther inside.

_You are stretched thin, little one,_ she murmured sympathetically.

"We," Eragon corrected. "You are with me in all I do, Saphira." He raised his head and smiled at her. She ducked her chin, sapphire eyes glittering in the dim light of the tent. "We must bury the dwarves, rescue Katrina, and then get leave from Nasuada to return to our training with Oromis and Glaedr. We are stretched thin indeed."

_It is all toward a greater end,_ said Saphira. _And as the days go by, we will finish some things and be free for others. _

"If something else doesn't appear, demanding our attention."

Saphira growled in assent of his bitter remark. _It is hard because there is only us. We are the only dragon and Rider against Galbatorix that can do anything, and so everything that needs to be done by a Rider and his dragon falls on us. We need a reprieve. _

"We need companions," Eragon agreed. "We have comrads and friends all around us, but you are right, Saphira. I only hope that the last egg does not hatch and give Galbatorix yet another advantage over us."

Saphira said nothing, and Eragon felt a slight guilt settle over his other numerous and roiling emotions. She wanted another dragon with her desperately, and he should not make it harder for her. He opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him before he could.

_You should sleep as well, Eragon. There is much to do, and you promised to right the wrong that Elva has suffered if we won the battle. _

"And we did," said Eragon, but there was no sense of triumph in his words. The victory had come with prices that Eragon had never thought would need to be paid. Saphira retracted her head and Eragon was alone in the tent. Twisting his body, he laid down on his bed and forced his eyes closed, tempted to rest his hands on them to be sure that his eyelids did not fly open and keep him up. He was weary, but at the same time energized.

The light from the fires outside cast Saphira's shadow on his tent wall. He could see her sides moving as she breathed, hear the air whistling lowly in and out of the great bellows of her lungs. With that to help lull him and her presence so near that he could feel her warmth through the canvas walls of the tent, Eragon was able to drift off to a restorative sleep.


	2. Lifting the Curse

I do not own any of this, it all belongs to Christopher Paolini and that's awesome. Not that this little disclaimer would stop him if he wanted to take legal action, haha. Here is the second chapter! I probably won't update twice in one day ever again, but I felt like getting started. Hope you enjoy!

-Khori

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Chapter Two: Lifting the Curse

The morning began early, but Eragon did not mind. He was ready to be awake.

The air was moist and humid and the sun was nothing more than a hint of pale orange light in the East as Eragon pushed the flap of his tent out of the way and stepped out into the camp. He turned automatically to where Saphira was lying. She raised her head, arching her neck gracefully. She ruined her early-morning elegance by yawning hugely, stretching her jaws, the tip of her tail flicking lazily.

"Time to start the day," said Eragon without resentment.

_Yes,_ said Saphira. _Nasuada is awake and in her command tent._

"We will go see her, then," said Eragon. Saphira got to her feet and walked at his side through the camp. Many were stirring outside their tents, their faces blank or grimly satisfied. Most were relieved, but tired by their sagging posture. Eragon and Saphira nodded to everyone they passed, hoping to spread encouragement. But it was hard to ignore the soft crying that occasionally leaked out from a tent as the occupant hid in bed and grieved.

Nasuada was indeed awake and no longer dressed for battle. Arya was with her, and as a guard announced Eragon and Saphira's arrival Arya stepped away from Nasuada as though removing herself from any impending conversation.

"Saphira and I are returning to Farthen Dfr," said Eragon after they had exchanged greetings. "To see Hrothgar into the stone. After that we will go with Roran to Dras-Leona, and after that–"

"You will return to Ellesméra," Nasuada finished, displeasure coloring her tone. She sighed. "It is all for the best, but I can't help but wish that you were around more." Eragon bowed in response.

"I know that as your vassal I should be close to serve you when you have need. Saphira and I greatly appreciate that you allow us such a free reign," he told her when he straightened. Nasuada smiled blandly.

"What else can I do? You and Saphira come when I have need, and I cannot ask more than that with you having so many other allegiances to appease." Her smile became true then, rising into her eyes like the sun into the sky. "Such as your allegiance to the dwarves. I think that I will go with you and visit the grave of my father. I am leaving Arya in charge in my absence."

Eragon avoided looking at the elf. "A wise choice."

_The dwarves will want to leave as soon as possible,_ Saphira reminded them. _And Eragon has something else to take care of before we go. _

"Elva!" Nasuada gasped, smile flourishing with relief. "You will free her?"

Eragon nodded. "I will do my best."

"I'll walk with you," said Nasuada. She turned to Arya. "I know you will do well with the Varden," she said heavily. "Thank you. I could not put it in more trusted hands than the those in the tent with me now."

"I will do my best," said Arya, echoing Eragon's words.

Eragon and Nasuada left the tent, Saphira's head retreating to open the space.

"Do you think I am being selfish in wanting to see my father?" Nasuada asked quietly once they were out of earshot of the guards. Her murmur was covered by the sounds of early morning camp: pots clanging, fabric rustling, greetings and much more.

Eragon looked at her in surprise. "Why do you say that?"

"The Varden has won another victory over the Empire, but we are left weak while Galbatorix has more soldiers at his disposal. If I am away and the Varden are attacked again, I could not live with myself," she said, hanging her head.

_It is a delicate situation,_ Saphira agreed. Each of her steps left a small depression in the ground behind her with puncture holes where her claws had sunk in. _But you are not only going to see your father. You will also honor Hrothgar at his funeral. After the service the dwarves paid the Varden by allowing them to stay in Farthen Dfr, they would be insulted if you did not pay your respects. Really, you have no choice but to go. _

Nasuada smiled gratefully at Saphira. "No, I do not. Thank you."

_It is hard to come across someone these days who is not tied into a corner in fear of offending someone,_ Eragon commented to Saphira. _It is a complex dance that I want to sit out of, sometimes._

_We have become adept at the dance,_ she replied privately, a smug gleam in her eyes. _But I agree. _

They reached Elva's tent and went inside quickly. Saphira was unable to push her head through the flap, as the continuous open space would allow the cooled air within the tent to be regulated to the hot temperature of the outdoors. Eragon relaxed as the refreshing air settled on his skin and in his hair.

Elva was awake and already eating although the sun had not yet risen. She glanced up at them, her violet gaze revealing how strained she was. Eragon understood. With the sorrow and pain that saturated the camp, Elva was under a terrible burden.

"Hello, Elva," he said softly.

"Hello, Eragon," she smiled sharply. "Have you come to..." she trailed off, her voice choking with hope born of desperation.

Eragon nodded. Elva laughed quickly.

"I suppose you'll at least try, but it's a lot harder to undo a mistake than to make one," she snorted, picking at her food. Eragon knelt in front of her.

"Are you ready?" he asked, forgetting about Nasuada and the crone who attended Elva. Elva sat up straighter and set her platter of food aside, her eyes expanding until Eragon swore they were almost perfectly round.

"Now?"

"Yes."

Elva bit her lip and nodded. As he had done when he first laid the curse on her, Eragon laid his hand on her brow, over the star shaped mark that had been Saphira's gift. The mark tingled against Eragon's gedwëy ignasia as though in greeting. Saphira's gift had probably saved Elva by giving her the magical ability to cope with the curse that had been Eragon's unintentional doing.

Elva's eyes glowed just below his hand as she waited expectantly, also managing to seem a little bored as though she were amusing a child who wanted to play a strange game. Eragon hesitated. Oromis had told him never to use absolutes, but he could not simply reduce the curse. He would undo the spell.

_Saphira, I will need your help. _

_I am here for you. _

Her energy flowed into him, giving him strength. Eragon closed his eyes and recited the words to remove the curse, each word weighing heavily, carefully considered before being spoken. He already knew the terrible consequences if even one word was wrong.

His energy drained from him like water through splayed-fingered hands. He set his jaw and drew on Saphira's energy. Now it was all up to fate. The pull receded. Eragon fell back, bracing himself with his arm, the other coming slowly off of Elva's forehead as he toppled back. Breathing heavily and sapped of strength, Eragon looked up at Elva, waiting.

The mark on her brow glimmered and was still present. That Eragon had expected, as he had not tried to undo that, but it dampened his hope for a moment.

Elva, however, sat stunned. Her small hands were pressed on the ground on either side of her, keeping her steady. Her lips were parted and she stared into the air. Then, blinking rapidly, her face crumpled with a small sob. She got up into a half-crouch and launched herself at Eragon, wrapping her arms around his neck, her face resting on his chest. His tunic in that spot became wet with her hidden tears.

Even her small weight had pushed him over, and he looked up at the ceiling of the tent, his breathing shown by the rise and fall of Elva on his torso. He raised one arm and draped it across her small body in a sort of hug, then let it fall to his side.

"Thank you," Elva whispered. "Thank you, thank you."

She sat up, kneeling on his stomach and scrubbed her face in her hands. Stepping off of Eragon, she walked over to her empty platter and frowned. "I am still hungry. Food, please," she asked of the crone. "For all of us," she added thoughtfully.

"I would like some water," said Eragon.

_It was rather foolish to attempt such great magic before eating breakfast, _Saphira reprimanded, caring not at all that she had realized this too late.

"What a good way to start the day, right, Eragon?" said Elva cheerfully. He nodded in full agreement. Though he was lying weakly on the ground, he felt as though a great burden had been removed from all the concerns that pressed down on him constantly.

"I have to admit, I'm sorry to lose your talent, as it has saved my life," said Nasuada, "but I am so very happy for you."

"Happy," said Elva, trying the word out. "Yes, I suppose I am happy."


	3. Cycle of Life

I don't own any of this, it's all Christopher Paolini's and I'm just fooling around :) The next chapters are when I really begin to have my fun, rather than all this set-up stuff.

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Chapter Three: Cycle of Life 

Eragon enjoyed a breakfast of biscuits and eggs as well as water that refreshed him and made him feel stronger after the magic he had performed. He poured some of the water into Saphira's mouth, but it was not enough to do more than wet her tongue.

_I will hunt when we set off,_ she decided. Eragon nodded and they returned to his tent. Saphira waited outside while he packed his belongings and strapped the belt of Beloth the Wise around his waist. It felt wrong without a sword hanging from it.

"I will need a new sword," Eragon sighed. The Varden was unlikely to be able to produce anything that would live up to the quality he was used to with Zar'roc, but he would have to make due with what they had.

At the forge the familiar large pile of Saphira's armor was being sorted and packed by dwarves. They hailed Saphira and Eragon as they approached, and one of the Varden found Eragon a sword that satisfied him. He slid the sheath onto the belt and felt for a moment that a hole had been filled, but then emptied like water draining from a damaged bucket.

_Oromis did say that there were two more Rider swords, held by the families of the Rider they belonged to. Perhaps you could get one of them? _Saphira suggested. _I can not imagine that they would not grant you use of the sword to rid the world of Galbatorix. _

_That's a wonderful idea, Saphira,_ said Eragon, his eyes lighting up as he looked at her proudly, thankful for her memory. _I only wish we could see to that before we go to Dras-Leona. _

_You still have your skill with magic. And you are a proficient enough swordsman that you do not need Zar'roc to give you an advantage. _They had left the make-shift forge, searching out Orik's mind to meet with the dwarf. The camp was truly awake now, and Eragon stopped twice to heal wounds that had not yet been seen to. He was still weak from lifting Elva's curse, however, and Saphira tried to put herself between him and anyone seeking his attention so he would not have to refuse them. She made an excellent wall, and soon they had reached Orik. Roran was already at his side, fiddling with the hammer tucked in his belt.

"Roran has told me that you are going to slay the Ra'zac," said Orik, his voice slightly slurred. "I'm having your and Saphira's armor brought with us so that you will have it when it is time for you to go."

"We saw, thank you," said Eragon.

_Yes, thank you,_ said Saphira, bowing her head slightly.

Nasuada arrived then, nodding to them all. By the distracted air around her, Eragon suspected that she was still debating whether or not she should be leaving the Varden at such a critical time, even for the sake of offending the dwarves, the Varden's constant ally.

_She just came from the command tent,_ said Saphira, looking in the direction Nasuada had come from. _And Arya is over there. Last minute instructions, perhaps?_

_Perhaps. I hope the council will not give Arya any trouble. _

_I don't think Arya will have a problem,_ said Saphira with flat confidence.

"We are almost ready to leave," said Orik, gesturing behind him to the busy dwarves. "Normally we would go by foot, but since there is not much time, even for the respect of Hrothgar, the Varden has kindly lent us horses and wagons for the fallen, and other still for supplies."

Eragon and Saphira looked beyond where many covered wagons were lined up, having horses hitched to the front. Eragon imagined the carefully lain bodies of dwarves under the canvas covering and repressed a shudder.

"Oh, Eragon," said Orik. "Before I forget, the thirteen clans will be choosing a new king."

"Yes," said Eragon.

"The leaders of the clans will be there, and more likely than not, so will Az Sweldn rak Anhfin. I doubt they will try and cause trouble when our strict attention is needed elsewhere, but to warn you."

Roran frowned at Eragon. "Az Sweldn... What is that?"

"A dwarf clan," Orik answered. "Who have sworn to oppose Eragon in everything he does."

"So they're with Galbatorix?"

Orik blinked and then chuckled. "No. Never. They don't need to join Galbatorix to oppose Eragon, though it was almost a fair point." Orik sobered. "This is serious."

"I see it as another thing that is wasting Eragon's time," said Roran. "And Saphira's."

"There's a story behind it," said Eragon. "Just like everything else. It's delicate and complex, just like everything else we have encountered."

"I don't do delicate or complex," said Roran. "The Ra'zac attacked us, and now we are going to attack them. As soon as you are finished with your complexities."

_Your nest-mate has quite the temper,_ Saphira commented privately. Eragon shrugged one shoulder.

Two dwarves approached Orik and spoke to him in Dwarvish. Orik thanked them and they retreated to the wagons solemnly. "We are ready."

The dwarves, along with Eragon, Saphira, Nasuada, and Roran, departed before the sun had reached the top of the sky. Eragon had regained some of his strength, which was more than enough to match the low energy of everyone else because of the enhanced physical prowess that being a Rider had given him. The dwarves spoke little, Nasuada some, and Roran almost never. Eragon and Saphira conversed with each other almost incessantly.

_Do you think they will have assembled Isidar Mithrim yet?_ she asked anxiously.

_I think they may have brought all the larger pieces together in the frame by now,_ said Eragon. _But you specified that every fragment had to be in place, and that will take time, even if the dwarves worked on it without pause through day and night these past months. _

Travel was slow and spanned days. As they entered the second week, Roran took to plucking large stones from the ground and cracking them under his hammer, something that grew irritating almost immediately. Moral raised slightly when they crossed the border from Surda and entered the Beors. The dwarves seemed much happier with their mountains to surround them, and though the mood was subdued as they transported their dead the air did not seem so heavy.

They were admitted into Farthen Dfr and journeyed into the mountain. As the wagons containing the fallen dwarves passed, those still living bowed their heads and wept, sometimes grasping at their hair in spasms of grief.

"It's strange," Nasuada whispered to Eragon. "I thought I would feel almost a sense of homecoming, but I do not. I suppose my home is with the Varden."

Eragon smiled at her gently. "You lead them well." Nasuada bowed her head, accepting the compliment.

With the absence of the Varden and the presence of all the dwarf clans, the four non-dwarves felt very out of place.

_At least you are a member of one of the clans,_ remarked Saphira. _You are welcome here. _

They entered the great cavern, their gazes instantly drawn to the remains of Isidar Mithrim. Several large pieces were still lying apart from the gathered and partially assembled structure, and Eragon sensed relief from Saphira.

_I want to conserve my energy for the Ra'zac and the lethrblaka,_ she explained. _It will take a great amount of energy to repair that stone, and I would not be able to excuse myself for more time if they had finished it. _

Eragon nodded, knowing the truth of her words.

They were allowed a short rest to wash and dress in proper mourning clothes. Nasuada, Eragon, and Saphira joined the procession bearing the body of Hrothgar and went down into the alcoves where Hrothgar was laid and sealed. The Dfrgrimst Ingeitum crest was carved upon the crypt. Just as with Ajihad, on top of Hrothgar's crypt was carved,

_May all, Knulan, Humans, and Elves_

_Remember_

_Hrothgar, our Forty Second King _

_For he was Noble, Strong, and Wise_

_G__f__ntera Ar__f__na_

Nasuada sighed sadly beside Eragon and turned her head, picking out her own father's crypt without hindrance. Eragon was not surprised that she had remembered exactly where it was.

"So now we wait?" Roran scoffed. "We do not need to wait to see who they choose as their new king. We could be leaving now, to rescue Katrina and avenge our father."

_Have patience, _said Saphira. _We are bound tightly by all three races. It is important that we be here for the new king's coronation. _

"That doesn't have to be today," Roran pointed out. "They could choose the new king and wait to hold an official ceremony."

"Roran, I know that this all seems like a waste of time to you, but it is necessary," said Eragon from where he was seated at one of the great dinning tables. "I never thought fighting a war would have just as much of the battle waged on an invisible field, but it is also a large part that we have to honor. I have not forgotten my promise. Now please, be quiet."

Orik had gone in as the speaker for Dfrgrimst Ingeitum, since their leader was now buried in stone. Eragon knew that Orik had a sound mind and would be able to hold his own against the ever disagreeable clans. Although Eragon was an honorary dwarf, he did not know any others than Orik and the few he and Saphira had traveled with on the way to Du Weldenvarden. The new king could be entirely unfamiliar– or worse, a member of the clan sworn against him.

Many hours and location changes later, they were found by Orik. Eragon and Nasuada crowded close with Saphira's head hovering directly over them as they looked at their severely tired friend and waited expectantly for the news.

"Well?"

He looked at his feet, then smiled and looked up at them, his eyes shining with hinted tears. "Get out all the mead we have! A celebration is in order, even if it is in my own honor," he chuckled. "I have been named the new king."


	4. Turning Traitor

I don't own any of this, it belongs to Christopher Paolini.

Here's chapter four! Thank you to everyone who had read, reviewed, or put this in their favourites!

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Chapter Four: Turning Traitor

It took Arya longer than she expected to get used to being in the Varden's command tent without Nasuada. Knowing that the organization she had been part of for so long was now in her hands was a concept Arya thought she would never have to experience. The same went for ascending the throne of the elves. Only, in Du Weldenvarden, she would be able to decline the rule and let someone else become the new king or queen.

With the yawë on her shoulder, she was dedicated to doing everything necessary to protect their cause. If Galbatorix was defeated, and the Empire destroyed, Arya wondered if she would still refuse the throne. She thought it most likely, for though she enjoyed being in Ellesméra, she had been too long a traveler and too long away from her home. She did not feel as though she fitted in there properly any longer–or anywhere, for that matter.

Arya's thoughts were disturbed as a guard pulled the tent flap back and announced her first visitor of the day. Many had come over the past week, and Arya had done all she could to satisfy them. Arya nodded to the guard, although the name they had announced did not help to improve her spirits.

Trianna stepped into the room, her face a poor mask of surprise. "Arya! Why, I had no idea you were here. Where is Nasuada?"

Arya was tempted to touch Trianna's mind and remind the sorceress that she could use no tricks, but it was a simple enough matter. "You knew. I am standing in for Nasuada while she travels to Farthen Dûr for the coronation of the new dwarf king. I do not believe that Nasuada would not inform you."

"Since I am the leader of Du Vrangr Gata," Trianna filled in when Arya failed to flatter her. Arya did not respond. She had heard the name too many times to laugh at it any more, although she would not have minded laughing in Trianna's face to put her in her place.

"What do you need, Trianna?"

Trianna hesitated, then spun quickly on her heel, skirts flaring as she looked at Arya back over her shoulder. "Nothing. It can wait until Nasuada returns."

"That will be another week, at least," Arya pointed out. "I am acting in her stead. You may tell me and I will do my best to see to your needs." She did not enjoy saying those words, but it would not do to have the Varden avoid her because they would rather speak to Nasuada. Arya was not used to being ignored, or thought inferior.

Trianna turned back around, a smug cat's smile on her face. "You'll see to my needs? Thank you, Arya," she said, curtsying. "My matter to speak with Nasuada was simple. Since she is his liege lord, I was thinking that she could have him marry me. It would be a good match, I think, and increase the moral of the Varden to have a wedding. You _do_ know what a wedding is? I know elves don't practice marriage," said Trianna as though she were being very considerate for checking.

"That was your request?" Arya asked flatly. Trianna grinned and nodded. "When Nasuada and Eragon return, I will speak with them on the matter. I am sure they will call you for council."

"Will Eragon be returning with Nasuada?"

"No. Eragon, Saphira, and Eragon's cousin have their own task after the coronation," said Arya. "Is there anything else?"

Trianna shook her head and curtsied again. "Thank you, Arya. You have been most helpful."

Arya watched Trianna closely as the sorceress left the tent. Her last comment had not been mocking at all. Even though Arya had little help to give on the matter Trianna had brought up, Trianna had sounded completely sincere.

0oOo0

Trianna walked quickly from the tent, smoothing her features into a casual expression that no one would think anything of. She did not want anyone being able to recall that she had left the command tent with either a smile or a scowl, for people might wonder about that and it would stick in their memories. Best they think everything was normal, business as usual.

She had been certain that Arya would have tried to enter her mind, or at least prepared for the possibility. Trianna had walls around her mind, but that would not have stopped someone as powerful as Arya if she really wanted to enter. Trianna hated that. She wanted to be powerful, powerful enough to break that elf and her higher-than-though attitude.

That power would not be gained here, not in the Varden. Before the last battle, when Eragon had taken control of Du Vrangr Gata, Trianna had seen how ignorant they all were. Eragon had hidden his frustration, but as the magic users around him had been mostly unable to master basic spells, Trianna had known. She could learn much from Eragon, but not if he was never around.

How strong the Twins had been when they had returned after turning traitor and going to Galbatorix. Trianna smiled and reinforced the barriers around her mind that she now kept up constantly. She could not be foolishly caught unawares–the thing that had finally destroyed the Twins.

The rest of her day could not pass quickly enough. She spent some time with Du Vrangr Gata, although she could only stand so much before she became disgusted with their incompetence. She was forced to realize that she was not as far above them as she had thought. That would change.

When night fell Trianna let out a breath of relief. The Varden retired slowly, and even in the depths of night when most were asleep there were still the patrol guards and the small groups of people who liked to stay awake playing cards and drinking. Trianna crept out of her tent– one she had to _share_– with saddlebags she had packed with provisions. She selected a horse turned her eyes on the nearest guard.

She walked up to him so that he could see, ducking her chin and smiling in her most seductive manner. He looked at her warily, but readily, and allowed her to pull his arm across her shoulders.

"Would you please saddle my horse for me?" she asked, kissing him lightly right below his ear. The guard swallowed uncertainly, and Trianna fought to keep her patience. Many evaded questions and husky requests later, the horse was saddled and the guard was unconscious on the ground from a quickly spoken spell. Trianna looked upon horse and guard with satisfaction as she attached the saddle bags.

Trianna gathered her skirts and hooked her foot into the stirrup, pulling herself up into the saddle with only minor hindrance from the trailing fabric. She took up the reigns and turned the horse around.

A little girl stood in her way, instantly and unavoidably recognized as Elva.

Elva looked down at the guard, then up at Trianna. "And where are you going?" Elva asked. Trianna shuddered at the voice. It was too old to be coming out of a girl that size.

The dragonmark star on Elva's forhead glowed lightly. "Answer my question."

Trianna cursed inwardly. She had forgotten about Elva–but hadn't she heard that Eragon had lifted the curse? How was the child still so disturbing?

She would make a good gift, Trianna thought suddenly. How many children were there with a dragonmark? One, that history knew of.

"Sé orúm thornessa hávr sharjalví lífs," Trianna whispered, her lips barely moving. She dropped her arm to her side, holding the reins in one hand as Lorga stirred and slipped off her wrist, slithering along the ground.

"I am going for a ride," said Trianna, forcing a smile. "Surely one as intelligent as yourself can figure that out for your own?"

"Going for a ride is what you are _doing,_" said Elva, "and therefore not an appropriate answer to my question. And I also stipulated 'Where.' Where are you going, Trianna?"

Trianna's eyes were locked on the glowing star on Elva's forehead, and Elva's eyes were locked on Trianna. Trianna felt Elva trying to probe into her mind and resisted, fighting to keep control of her mind and Lorga.

"This is an outrage!" Trianna hissed, remembering to keep her voice down. "I do not have to explain myself to a child! You have no right!"

"Maybe, but I have never liked you," said Elva. "And no one else particualarly does, either. It is a good excuse as any."

"Well, if you want to get rid of me," said Trianna, "I will leave."

Elva laughed. Trianna flinched, Elva's chuckle disturbing her. "No, Trianna, you know too much about the Varden. Nasuada doesn't mind you, and you have helped the Varden in the past. Do not leave."

"Oh, I am leaving," said Trianna grimly, smiling darkly. Elva blinked and looked down as a small golden snake shot up the side of her leg, making his way swiftly up her side and over her shoulder before Elva could clap her hand around his tail. Lorga wrapped himself around Elva's small neck and tightened. Elva snarled and the mark on her forehead flashed, and at the same time Trianna barked a spell.

Elva stared at Trianna, shocked, and then fell to the ground.

Too shaken to feel proud of herself, Trianna jumped off the horse and pulled it over to Elva's fallen body. It was no trouble to lift the small body, and after Lorga was safely around her wrist Trianna mounted the horse, arranged her skirts and forced herself not to think about the strange child lying limply against her as she kicked the horse to a gallop and rode North. If she could make it out of Surda, she would have a chance. But it would be difficult to make it out of Surda, with the distance they had to travel. There were a very many factors. Worst of all, if Elva woke up.


End file.
